


Breakfast in bed

by Anonymous



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Carolina POV, Electra Complex, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He hasn't said a word to her for the whole duration of funeral. As she should have expected, anyway, so she feels stupid for being hurt by it. The audacity with which he was standing near her, chest pointed in her direction as if he cared, but he didn't. Not enough...And now? Now they're home, and York is dead. York is dead and all she can think of is her asshole father and his inability respond properly to any situation.
Relationships: Agent Carolina/The Director | Dr. Leonard Church
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	Breakfast in bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work serves as a description of a very specific set of feelings. The feelings a child (in this case an adult child) can catch for an abusive parent or caregiver, the confusion as lines get crossed, the misbehaving spawned from being used to a very much abnormal normality, becoming one with the person who was supposed to care for you and the desperation blurring the line between predator and prey. All negative things that only those who have gone through it directly can understand.
> 
> Before you [come at me over this fanfiction](https://news.utexas.edu/2006/11/27/young-children-learn-to-distinguish-between-fact-and-fiction-research-at-university-of-texas-at-austin-finds/#:~:text=Nov%2027%2C%202006-,Young%20Children%20Learn%20to%20Distinguish%20Between%20Fact%20and%20Fiction%2C%20Research,of%20Texas%20at%20Austin%20Finds&text=AUSTIN%2C%20Texas%E2%80%94Children%20are%20able,University%20of%20Texas%20at%20Austin.), just know that the comment moderation is enabled.

He hasn't said a word to her for the whole duration of funeral. As she should have expected, anyway, so she feels stupid for being hurt by it. The audacity with which he was standing near her, chest pointed in her direction as if he cared, but he didn't. Not enough...And now? Now they're home, and York is dead. York is dead and all she can think of is her asshole father and his inability respond properly to any situation. 

A big chunk of it is just coping, going to the feeling that is most routine so that she doesn't have to explore this new and unbearable pain, but there's so much shame in always pulling on daddy's lab coat when he deliberately looks the other way. There's not even an actual lab coat to pull onto, these days: he's been fired a couple of years ago and hospitalized for being 'a danger to himself and others' after lashing out yet another time. Still is, but look at him in the damn kitchen. He always walks back and forth, filling his time with housework, occasional programming, and mindless staring at books whenever he tries to read them. 

He likes to cook, probably with reason. It seems to be the only time of the day when he can make something good for everyone. He would cook for her everyday when she was a child, he had to because mom was never home, and then he would cook for both her and York when they decided to live together. He bought them the house himself, as a frankly infuriating way to apologize for everything - not that he ever admitted that. He wanted to be on his own, but of course Carolina had to take him in as his mental health progressively got worse.

"It's not your fault." he has the courage to say anything only a few days after, raspy and uncomfortable grating her ears from behind as she sits on the couch. She doesn't want to flinch at it, hardens her shoulders and tries to stay as unmoving as she can, eyes gazing at the paper-white sky that's too coward to cry for her, behind the stained glass of the window left uncovered from last time it rained. He tries to repeat himself.

"It's not--"

"I KNOW." she stands up immediately, still not turning towards him. She clenches her fists, trying to bottle up the anger. What is he trying to accomplish?

"Well, you were the one at the wheel." he's casual, explaining her own reasoning to her.

Carolina's eyes open wide. She doesn't want to start a conversation, and not even a screaming match, but she can't hold back much longer. She punches the glass coffee table with a loud groan, so hard it breaks. Her hand has some scratches, but they don't burn. The burning she feels is all in her chest and veins. 

"Get a broom." she growls through gritted teeth. He tries to say something back, but in the end he just sighs. At first he tries to hand her the broom, but she won't take it, it's not up to her to clean the place and even if it was she just refuses to. He sweeps in silence, not without glaring at her. He is offended, as if he didn't say anything wrong. Well, he did, no matter the intention.

He understands he should leave her alone, but he hates being useless.

"I should go get groceries, do you want anything?"

"No." she looks down at her hand, now it hurts "You pick."

"Alright."

Shortly after, she's alone at home. Goes upstairs, goes back downstairs, exploring her own abode seemingly aimlessly but she's capturing pictures in her mind, pictures of how York moved through the house. So many boxes scattered around are still sealed, they really didn't have time to enjoy their new nest. It's not many memories, not many pictures that she can take. Speaking of, she should probably go back to work. Photography was one of the interests she and York had in common, and they would go hunt for locations together. Maybe to honour him, or even to keep herself busy, she should go for it...But when something is both, a thing that pulls you closer and that pushes you away, there never seems to be a healthy distribution. 

Freelancing itself is a bit like that too. It is always free time, but also always working time. For a workaholic like Carolina, working in a way that is not hard feels like cheating, and taking a break is proof of it. York knew how to balance it, though. In his almost baffling laid-back demeanour, he had some hidden depths, some secret wisdom to him. A nice purifying drizzle to her fire. He surprisingly had a passion for informing himself about the history of locations, and whenever they found the perfect landscape he would ramble for hours and hours, even when she told him to shut up. The chattering seemed endless, but one day all of a sudden it ended. 

Visiting any location is too much, right now. Even being at home is, but she's tired, she needs to sleep this horrible day away. She will not hope to wake up next to him, she tells herself, because she's not stupid. Yet when she wakes up early at night, the bed feels empty and the room feels cold. It's about 2am, or so says the alarm clock. She reaches for her phone, logs onto social media and sees the world pass her by regardless of the unholy hour, refreshing the feed over and over. Life truly goes on no matter what, doesn't it? 

People going on vacations together, having babies, celebrating career achievements together. All things that she could have - all things that she should have been able to do with York. Scrolling some more, she sees someone post a picture of a pizza with a lot of cheese on top, and she remembers she skipped a meal. She remembers to be hungry, or at least tricks herself into believing it, if only to distract herself from the self inflicted torture that Instagram is. 

She opens the door: upstairs there is only their-- her room, her father's and a second bathroom, very useful as no one wants go downstairs for it at night. The actual life takes place downstairs, with the linked kitchen to the living room. The entrance corridor leading to it also has a door to a proper dining room, but they never really used it much and would rather eat on the chairs at the counter. Only Leonard - dad - goes there often because there is a small altar in honour of the oh-so-great person that mom was. Carolina has a couple of fond memories of her, but how great can someone who always leaves be? She was never ever there. 

If it wasn't for the pictures, Carolina would probably be unable to tell for certain what she looked like! Yet she always had to do whatever she could to get her father's attention, winning prizes, excelling at every activity in and out of school, and basically being perfection incarnate. Somehow, that could never compare to mom, how perfect could a woman be for this not to be enough? It's not possible, Carolina is better than her and more worthy of Leonard's attention, he just refuses to admit it. Either way, she doesn't want to think about it and just wants to get some food.

She looks in the fridge, counting on finding something from tonight's dinner, but there's nothing. Groceries are there, but nothing has been cooked. Dad hasn't eaten either. He does that a lot, but it might be out of spite this time. Does she know why? No, but she expects it. He might be her parent but on the inside he is actually a little kid who can't take care of himself. She's learned not to shame him, but putting up with it doesn't get any easier growing up. Fuck it, she's not hungry anymore. 

She goes back to her room and it takes her a while to fall asleep, but eventually she does and is waken up later in the morning by Leonard bringing her breakfast. She appreciates it, but knows it won't last, and gives him a bitter smile.

"You didn't eat last night." he says coldly. He probably doesn't want to scold her, but it sounds like it. She gets defensive.

"Neither did you."

"I did."

"Liar."

A corner of his mouth curls downwards for a moment. His gaze bounces a little bit everywhere, like he doesn't know where to look, and finally he turns around to head out, spitting the last sentence before he leaves the room.

"By the way, many people called to give you their condolences: I thanked them on your behalf and told them to leave you alone for a while."

"Good."

The freshly made pancakes have no business in being as delicious as they are. She tries to eat them slowly to enjoy them more, but they're really good. No, she's not going to ask if there's more, she would rather starve. She could still go see for herself, though, and so she does. There's nothing, and Leonard thinks she can't see his obnoxiously cocky smirk as she puts her empty plate in the sink with slight disappointment. 

"Are you not having breakfast?" she tries to ask casually.

"I'm not hungry." he shrugs, focused on cleaning the counter.

"The doctors said you're underweight."

"The doctors need to shut up."

Carolina's eyes scan Leonard's silhouette, a bit too intensely maybe as he seems to feel it and shivers a little. He's so skinny that it's concerning to look at him, like glaring at him would break him in half. No matter how angry he makes her, whenever she looks at his body she feels this urge to hold him and protect him, because he really is fragile, but he would never let her. She can't even remember the last time he hugged her or kissed her forehead. He stopped braiding her hair when she was seven, but other than that it's all blurred.

"You're going to get sick."

"I can take care of myself." Leonard replies immediately after, the irritation very much prominent in his voice.

"You clearly can't." she points out "You can't take care of anything."

"WELL, ARE YOU STILL ALIVE OR NOT?!" he barks at her, yelling as always, with the words that hurt her the most in this moment. How can he be so tone deaf? No, he isn't being tone deaf, he's doing it on purpose, which is even worse.

"Yeah." her response is a quiet scoff as tears fill her eyes but don't come out "Lucky me."

"Look. I'm not talking about Y--"

"I know what you meant, and honestly?" the scoff is now audible "It doesn't make it any better. But go ahead, keep making it about yourself!"

She barely has the time to finish the sentence that her father slaps her. She brings a hand to her cheek in disbelief: he's always been violent, but not towards her. He has thrown fits and broken things, but never laid a finger on her. He too seems shocked, and despite his struggle to keep his mouth scowling he stares at her with puppy eyes and takes a step back. Eventually, he runs upstairs. He is just going to leave her like that, isn't he?

All she can do, as always, is vent about her situation to a couple of friends at the bar.

"My dad slapped me, the other day."

David says 'Oh my God, are you okay?' and Connie says 'What a piece of shit.' It's good to see someone on her side. Everyone is on her side, actually, but she always feels alone when it comes to family.

"Yeah. I'm fine, and he is a piece of shit...But I guess I provoked him this time."

"I don't think so." David seems sad and a bit nervous too "Just because he's prone to outbursts and you caused one it doesn't mean that you're the problem."

His voice is quiet, he would know about it. He has his own history with these things. Connie gives him a look as to point it out, but he adds something before she can say anything.

"Sometimes mental illness is not an excuse, and all the abusive behaviour that comes with it is just...Well, abuse."

"Yeah, what he said." Connie nods "And, look. Maybe we can help you."

"How?" Carolina doesn't think she'll get an answer, she's very disenheartened, and even if she got one it probably wouldn't be right. Connie answers anyway.

"Have him be hospitalized again and then just stay with us, at least for a few days. You need to grieve York in peace, without him making it worse."

"What?! No!"

"Why not?"

Good question, why not? She feels like anyone would accept, but she can't leave him alone. Sure, he is abusive, he is suicidal, he is many bad things, but she just can't because she's the only one who knows how to take care of him in a way that doctors can't understand. That's it, that's the only answer.

"You wouldn't get it."

She shakes her head and walks out of the bar to the bus stop. She doesn't have the courage to drive after what happened to York. 

The next days throughout the whole week are a game of cat and mouse, both chasing and running away from one another at the same time, not talking to each other at all and merely communicating passive aggressively through meals or lack thereof. Carolina's way of escaping is going sightseeing, taking pictures of touristic locations she has already been to and reciting York's explanations in her head. Sometimes it makes her burst into tears, but sometimes it helps her feel better. 

Leonard instead hardly ever has an excuse to go out aside from buying stuff, so his escape is mostly doing housework and programming. When asked about the latter, he'd just point out that no matter how much money he saved from his old job, he will always do something to make sure they don't run out. That's oddly nice of him, but not out of character. It means he cares...Right? Maybe it's just wishful thinking. The days go by and he still doesn't initiate a conversation with anything other than mom's picture. Yes, it's just wishful thinking. He's just insane. He was gone a long time ago.

One day Carolina decides to stay out at night out of spite. Walks around alone at night, which would worry any father, but apparently not her own. Not a phone call, not a ring, not even a message. Is he ever going to look for her? She wants to get in trouble just make him regret it. So she looks for it, but doesn't find any trouble. She's invisible, pitiable under the night sky, the same under which someone just got murdered somewhere, and walks back to her home in shame.

She arrives at dawn. She finds Leonard on the kitchen floor, vomit on his shirt, a sleeve rolled up showing many fresh cuts on his boney forearm. Horribly enough, she's not surprised. She closes the half open fridge - it was emptied of all its content, which probably got eaten, hence the vomit - and leans in to look at him: bloody knife still in one hand, mom's picture in the other. He's unconscious and smells like alcohol. The knife and picture drop as Carolina lifts him, and it's the noise that wakes him up.

"Car...Carolina..." he mumbles "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?" she snarks with the coldest tone she can muster. He grunts, not understanding, as he's carried upstairs. He holds onto her, seeking protection, and something lights up inside of her: she sees the door to his room, but she takes him to her own instead. She's not sure why, but her instinct tells her to, she has to watch him, she has to be near him. Laying him on the bed, she removes his glasses and dirty shirt. He's wearing sleeping clothes, anyway, even has a tank top underneath, he can stay like this. He shivers a bit.

A groan comes out of him when she's about to head to the bathroom to change, and she turns to him.

"What is it?"

"Don't leave."

"I'm not leaving, I'm just--" she pauses. He's her father, he's not going to mind her changing in front of him. She strips down to her underwear and walks back to him. Funnily enough, he tries to look away, but she's not doing anything strange, really. He lets her manhandle him to get him under the covers. How is his body so cold when he always wears modest clothes with barely any skin showing? 

He yelps quietly as she gets under the covers as well, and his breath hitches as she embraces him.

"What are you doing?!"

"I'm holding you in place to make sure you don't do anything stupid." she chuckles lightly "Also, your body is freezing."

"Mh." he's not convinced, he turns his back to her. She holds him more tightly and he gasps "Stop it."

Carolina obeys lets her hands drop at her sides. Why does she have to do this? Why does he have to be mean to her even in a moment like this? If only he showed her some love now she would forgive all the times he left her alone, because she needs it that much. She will always be here for him, no matter what Connie says, but she really wishes he reciprocated all the care. He won't, so she scowls. There's really no point in expressing her discontentment, but there she is. 

She watches him for a while after he falls asleep. Leonard is scary when he's asleep, he looks stone cold dead and with all the times he has attempted to take his own life it just hits her like a punch in the stomach. What if he succeeds and she's all alone? Without him, without mom, without York. She may go to Connie, she may go to David, but what about her family? She clings to him like the scared little girl she is. Will he try to leave her alone again? When? He cut himself just tonight...

It's like an electric shock, the way her body twitches and clings to Leonard's again. She doesn't even do it consciously at first, but now she can have him in her arms without letting him go. Caressing him, like sculpting his figure from clay to remember all of him and keep him real in case he vanishes, pulsating as she keeps tracing every shape with her eyes closed. He senses it, curls up against her hands, seeking them with his own, still asleep. His subconscious knows he needs her, and it makes her smile. She places her chin on his shoulder, resisting the temptation to give him a goodnight kiss on the cheek, and eventually falls asleep.

She wakes up before him. The gentle yellow glow of late morning tries to welcome her to the new day, but the room still looks cold. The desk with the computer, the various textbooks and magazines scattered all over the shelves, the clothes out of the closet, that one poorly aged photograph of her and York posing next to their car, it all forms an unflattering picture...She's tempted to get up to reciprocate the favour of bringing breakfast in bed, but the bed is warm and nice, and so is Leonard's skin for once. 

He turns around in his sleep, almost looking for the source of heat, and Carolina welcomes him in her arms, breasts pressed against him and one bra strap going loose, diving one hand in his hair as she watches his eyes, identical to her own, finally open. 

"About time you woke up!"

She smiles at him, but he doesn't react positively like she wants to. On the contrary, he quickly pulls away, not caring about falling off the bed, and keeps backing away from her once he's on the floor.

"What the--?!"

"What's wrong?" she tilts her head as she sits up.

"Why the hell did I wake up here and why the hell are you naked?!"

"I'm not naked, I'm in my underwear!" she protests, adjusting her bra to actually cover something that popped out "Jeez, relax..."

He tries to say something, but only makes a couple of incoherent noises before going silent, which irritates his daughter.

"So, that's what you're gonna worry about?"

"What do you mean?" he stands up, pulling down his top in what he hopes is a casual way, but he can't really mask the morning wood. The man is so goddamn frigid, freaking out for a nip slip, it's surprising he hasn't cut his dick off yet. Carolina is almost completely sure that he tried, once, then again he's lost his last marble about twenty years ago, which is also the last time he saw a tit before today. It makes her want to shove hers in his face. She hates him. 

"Oh, I don't fucking know," she swears - and it usually takes a lot to make her swear "maybe the fact that stayed out all night and you didn't even notice?!"

"You stayed up all n-- Where did you go?"

"That's a great question, dad." Carolina snarks angrily "Where did I go? Maybe I spent all night having unprotected sex with strangers, or maybe I've been doing drugs! Who knows? Maybe I've--"

She was about to say 'maybe I've killed someone', but the image of York's lifeless face under the wreckage flashes in front of her eyes.

"...Maybe I've done both." she saves her train of thought.

"I'm sure you did." his voice finds its usual cold tone, the morning dizziness is officially over.

He doesn't believe her, not even for a second. Why, why, why can't he just be worried about her? She's lost her boyfriend, she needs help, she's lonely and he doesn't give a shit.

"Then what are you freaking out for?"

"I'm not freaking out, you are freaking out." he responds childishly.

"Doesn't look like it, I'm not the one who jumped out of the bed onto the floor."

"Look--"

"Oh, I get it now." an almost evil grin appears on Carolina's face, it's not her fault that the only way to have Leonard care is make everything about him "You thought you had sex with me."

"WHAT?!" he yells, because of course he does "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Is this what it takes? Is this what it takes to make him finally realize that she's not okay? To make him realize that she's never been okay ever since mom died and he went insane, but that now more than ever she is not fucking okay?

"I NEED SOMEONE, THAT'S WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME!"

She bursts into tears. It happens all of a sudden, she didn't expect it to happen, not like this, but there she is. She wants contain herself, and be a big girl as she's always had to, but she can't and just keeps sobbing incontrollably. Her father, who should help her, just stands there awkwardly instead. When he sees that she doesn't stop, he exits the room and leaves her alone.

It takes her way too fucking long to let it all out. She hates the sensation of the skin around her eyes getting all sticky after crying, it makes her feel like a stupid little girl. Paired with the equally sticky shirt full of vomit that she'd thrown on the floor, it feels dreary. She picks it up from the floor and exits the room as well. Look down the bannister, Leonard isn't in the living room. 

She hears water in the distance, he must be showering in the bathroom downstairs. She could drop the dirty shirt in the one upstairs, there's a basket in there as well, but...There are so many questions in her head, questions that somehow are barely put into words, hammering her mind relentlessly. Does he feel dirty from what just happened? Does he want a safe place to cry, without her hearing or seeing him? What if he's crying? She really wants to see him cry, see him acknowledge that he hurt her, see him feel bad for hurting her. 

Very quickly, she runs downstairs to the living room, to the entrance corridor, to the door next the dining room: this small bathroom has a sink, a toilet, and a washing machine - plus the dirty clothes basket, of course. The shower can almost be considered its own room, with a big frosted glass door leading to it. The glass is more transparent than it looks, though, and she's perfectly aware that he sees her, because he's facing her direction. She leans in to put the dirty shirt down, exposing her breasts more in defiance, but he doesn't seem to react. He might be spacing out, as he's just standing there without really washing himself, just letting the water fall on him.

His figure is still defined despite the glass, slender and pale. Chest hair colours it slightly, and so does his nice trail leading down. The V shape is more pronounced because of him being underweight rather than in a healthy way, but it looks good, and of course, it's hard not to stare at his cock...She's lived with him for so much time, how can she not wonder what he's like in bed? To think that he probably sees her and does nothing about it, it drives her mad. 

She sits onto the washing machine, legs spread, a hand going under the fabric of her panties, rubbing her clit. She doesn't make much noise, but how come he isn't noticing? She removes the panties entirely, spreading the legs more and bringing the other hand to herself, sliding in one finger, then two, then three. She moans, imagining him rather than watching him at this point as her eyes are closed. She works herself more vigorously, hoping and praying that he'll come out of that damn shower to finish the job himself, but of course he doesn't.

Instead he hisses in pain, for some reason. Carolina opens her eyes and he does it again, she doesn't understand why. She gets off the washing machine and looks more closely through the glass door - NO!! He's sitting down, two fresh cuts on his thigh, and now he's bringing the blade to his femoral artery, taking a deep breath to find the courage for what he's going to do next. He's startled as Carolina breaks into the shower, and he drops the razor. She almost dives onto him, hugging him as tight as she can. If she had any tears left, she would cry again.

"Carolina..." is all Leonard can say. He's quiet, and shaking, body's freezing cold again. He looks sorry, although probably not for what Carolina would like him to.

"You were going to leave me too!" she sobs, still unable to cry.

"I'm sorry..." he whispers. It's so strange to hear him say sorry, he never does. He must mean it. "I just--"

"Hey." she cups his face, looking down at him lovingly as she slowly eases on his knees. He looks like he's trying to fight something, seething for some reason, body still cold until it's not anymore. He's absorbing her heat, feeling it on his skin as he gasps and becomes half hard under her. She starts throbbing as she realizes, takes off her bra, getting her face closer to his and whispering "Let me take care of you."

Finally, the kiss she has always wanted to give him. Pure, like the love a little girl feels for her daddy. Curious, like a teenager who is eager to discover what love is like. Passionate, like a woman who knows what she wants. Confident, like a wife who earned it. Dominant, like a mistress who demands it. Desperate, like a whore whose whole existence is nothing but taking it. Leonard's eyes open wide, then squeeze closed forcefully, but he doesn't push her away. On the contrary, he lets her in, reciprocating the kiss and enjoying the heat radiating off of her, feeding himself from it, gifting her a muffled moan as she grabs his cock. Hand going up and down, up and down, slowly building up rhythm.

"Ahh!" he throws his head back "Don't-- Don't stop...!"

Carolina hums in response to this plea, now directing the kisses to his neck, then biting his ear, ready to claim him for himself. Her voice is sultry:

"How long has it been since a woman pleased you?" she teases him, she knows it's been way too long, and in doing so she positions herself to have his erection right against her entrance, both moan at the contact as they're aligned, him getting harder and her getting wetter. She bites her lip, wanting to tempt him more before getting to that moment: she wants to make sure he's thinking about her, she wants him to tell her she's won, that she's the only one he cares about, as he should "Tell me, who touches you better? Me or mom?"

He flinches, eyes wide open and a hurt expression. What was he expecting? He pushes her away, of course he does, but why now? It doesn't make sense to push her away in the heat of the moment when he just wants to have dick fucking chewed by her goddamn pussy. He's an idiot. He's an asshole. What the fuck is wrong with him?!

"What was that for?!" 

He doesn't answer, he just gets up and closes the faucet, then reaches for a towel to cover his crotch with and another one to dry himself off. 

"You're still not over her, aren't you?" what a stupid question, he will never be over it, but it's baffling still. "You do realize that this is why you always ruin everything, right?!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Leonard barks at her "PUT SOME CLOTHES ON AND GO TO WORK! AND IF YOU EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN, I SWEAR TO GOD--"

"You know what? Nevermind." she gets up and walks away angrily, elbowing him on purpose "Pretend I never spoke to you."


End file.
